


The Wedding

by terriblyrude



Category: Kraftwerk (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 05:42:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5615920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terriblyrude/pseuds/terriblyrude
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Karl Intro > The Night in the Studio > Wolfgang's Dream > The Storm > Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wedding

**Author's Note:**

> Romantic, fluffy and funny at times. A speck of German, here and there.  
> Total fiction, of course.  
> No bicycles were harmed during the writing of this story.

The beat was pretty raw and he got into it with such a passion that he didn’t notice the slight change in the rhythm. But it got louder, something was off and he stopped playing the drum kit.

“Open up! Open the classroom!” someone was banging on the door.

“What?!” he shouted back and stretched his back.

“You are playing in my time slot again, Karl! Get the fuck out! I have exams on Thursday!”  
The young, dark haired, pale young man unlocked the door with a big grin.

“You were never bothered about me taking time from your slot, Günther. Why so sudden?” he leaned on the doorframe. Günther, Karl’s classmate just rolled his eyes.

“Look, if I don’t pass, they throw me out, ok? Ok? Happy now?”

“As far as I know, Hans rescheduled his practice hours and won’t be here till Friday so it’s all yours.”

“Oh thank god!” Günther sat down behind the drums and started to adjust the kit. Karl shoved his drumstick into his backpack, took a thermos flask with coffee out, wished Günther good luck and closed the door behind him.

He sat on the bench in the hallway, poured himself a cup of lukewarm coffee and suddenly noticed how much his back and hands hurt. He got blisters on both palms.

“…of course! Just leave it here but I’ll take care of it anyway, don’t worry!”

Two men emerged from behind the corner. One of them was a professor he faintly remembered from meeting in the hallway – a flute teacher. The other one, a slim, tall gentleman in grey trousers and white shirt, with wide smile and a distinctive nose he couldn’t place anywhere. They were chatting and the professor pinned something on a notice board not far from Karl – and yet he couldn’t see what it was. Then they shook hands, the professor patted the tall man on the shoulder and then they parted in opposite directions.

Karl finished his disgusting cold coffee and went to check out the notice board.

_Drummer wanted_

_Time flexibility required_

_Year four and up_

_Paid position_

_Mintropstraße 16_

 

Written on a typewriter, with no more information whatsoever. A band? A small orchestra? Rock or pop? What was that? Mintropstraße was not that far away from the academy. What Karl liked the most about the ad was that it said “paid position”. Oh yes.

He looked around as if he was to conduct some mischief, took the leaflet of the board and put it in his pocket. No one has to know about this, do they?

 On his way he managed to stuff himself with two Berliners which left his hands sticky and sweet. It was getting dark when he rang the doorbell. For a moment he got nervous and then he heard a voice from the intercom.

“Yes?”  
“Um… I’m here because of the ad… from the Academy….for a drummer?”

“Ah… That was fast. Come upstairs. Second floor.” And the intercom went dead. The buzzer let him in the building. Now he started to properly doubt his decisions. There were cables of various colours _everywhere_ on the staircase and sometimes he spotted some small electronic devices, clearly ditched because of some malfunction. On the second floor there was only one door so he knocked.

“Hello, come in.” said the elegant tall man with wide smile. He introduced himself and shook hands with Karl.

 Thank god Florian did not ask him about his motivation. He just showed him the drum kit and sat into an armchair with his long legs crossed.

“What do you want to hear?” Karl asked.

“Anything, really.” Florian waved his hand.

So Karl gave him rock’n’roll and some jazzy freestyle.

“Can you play melodic instruments?” asked Florian without telling him if he was satisfied with his drumming skills.

“Of course… um… xylophone, vibraphone…”

“Ok, ok.” Said Florian quietly and reached for a telephone. Karl had no idea what was going on so he just sat quietly behind the drum kit and looked around. The walls were perfectly covered so the sound could not get out. There were two armchairs, a coffee table with circle stains from steaming hot cups, a bass guitar sitting lonely in the corner and an upright piano. Somehow it just did not resemble a rock lair. Florian with his suit pants and sleek hair looked too elegant to be a rock star sniffing cocaine and partying all night. So jazz maybe? But who listens to jazz nowadays?

“I know but he just came… I couldn’t tell…Calm down!” Florian did not bother to make his call in another room. “So what? Yes. Yes. Of course. Good.” He hung up. Karl tried not to look at him so it would not look as if he listened.

“I’m afraid we’ll have to wait a bit for my colleague to show up. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.” He apologised and got up from the armchair. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Um… I… well, a coffee maybe?”

Florian smirked a bit and disappeared into another room.

“You know I studied flute at the same academy as you.” He shouted from the kitchen.

A flautist?! What is this “band” anyway? Karl wandered around the almost empty room, trying to figure out what the hell is going on when a flautist posts an ad, looking for a drummer. Oh god. Is this one of the kraut/psychedelic rock projects? He started to sweat. Please, not this. At day the all look like bank accountants but at night they all eat LSD with their sandwiches and dance naked in the town parks and swim in Rhein.

“Here you go.” Florian put two cups on the coffee table. Just before the saucers touched the desk, the entrance door swung open, a man with cheeks rosy from the evening breeze came in, propped his bicycle against the wall, took Florian’s cup and drank the hot coffee in one gulp.

“Where is Wolfgang?” he said all breathless from the bike ride. He didn’t even look at Karl. He was also wearing suit trousers (but with bike clips), grey shirt and black jacket. His hair was a bit messy from the wind outside.

“Ralf,” said Florian calmly, “This is Karl.”

“Yes.” Said the cyclist absent-mindedly and went to yet another room, leaving the door open. He took off the jacket, rolled up his sleeves and cleaned his glasses.

“What are you waiting for?” he shouted to the room where Florian and Karl were sitting. Karl was not sure if it was meant to both of them or just him and he gulped. Florian just gave him an assuring look and bid him to the other room.

This was not a rock band.

This was something completely different.

A room full of electronic devices, speakers, little boxes with cables sticking in and out, keyboards, moog, desks with strange metal plates on them, little antenna drumsticks…

“Where is Wolfgang?” Ralf asked again. He was smaller than Florian, but as pale. He managed to comb his hair meanwhile, slightly fairer than Florian’s and a bit wavy at the front. His clear, pale blue eyes pierced through Karl.

“I don’t know and I don’t care.” Said Florian and started to plug in all the electronic devices. Ralf took a pair of those weird antenna drumsticks and gave them to astonished Karl.

“I’ll play the melodic parts, you’ll do the beat.”

Florian finished plugging in the machines. “Play this – it’s like normal drums, only electronic.” He showed the device to Karl. “Maybe even easier to play. There are no cymbals.”

It was not that hard to play that thing. It even seemed too easy to Karl and he started to smell something fishy about it. He just kept a simple beat for a few minutes and then started to add more complicated rhythms. Ralf suddenly stopped and adjusted his glasses.

“No…don’t…. just play the simple beat like before. I need a… machine precision, not this jazz nonsense.” He never looked at Karl. It was like if he spoke to the air in the room.

“I’m sorry.” Apologised Karl and stuck to the advice. Now that he thought of it, while he was playing, it was much harder to keep a precise rhythm that did not change throughout the whole song. Florian winked at Karl but Ralf was absorbed in the music and it almost seemed he is not paying any attention to Karl. After some twenty minutes, Ralf stopped playing.

“What is your name again?” he looked at Karl. Florian grinned.

 

* * *

 

 

That night in the studio was very quiet. Karl went home to work on composition exercises, Wolfgang went to pick up girls in clubs. Florian was sitting in the armchair, three buttons on his shirt unbuttoned as it was a warm June night. He was meddling with a vocoder. The window was open and he was listening to the night sounds of the city and the trains leaving the main station. Ralf was sitting on the floor, his shirt rigidly buttoned up, repairing his bicycle. A sound of screwdriver falling on the floor cut through the silence. Ralf swore very quietly.

“What’s wrong?” asked Florian without looking in Ralf’s direction.

“Mm.” murmured Ralf.

Florian just rolled his eyes, got up and sat next to Ralf on the floor.

“Do you need help with it?”

“No.”

A moment of silence with occasional train coming to the station, followed.

“I don’t want to go there.” Said Ralf in a soft voice. Florian could barely hear him.

“Where?”

“To the photoshoot session. Tomorrow.”

“Why?”

“I don’t like being photographed. You know that.”

“Funny you say that because you always look the best on the photos.” Florian raised one of his eyebrows.

Ralf blushed a bit which surprised Florian after all those years he was making fun of his reserved behaviour.

“Do we have to go there?” Ralf asked like a child.

“Yes.” Said Florian and put his arm around his friend’s shoulders. “We have to.”

Ralf just sighed and bowed his head.

“They will put make up and lipstick on you and you are gonna like it!” Florian punched Ralf playfully and got up to finish his work on the vocoder.

“Florian!” moaned Ralf as in scorn but then he smiled a bit and Florian saw it.

Sometimes it was like taking care of a little boy, as Ralf got easily overexcited at times – about bicycles, about new sounds. He never expressed his joy extremely – he just had this sparkle in his eyes and his whole expression kind of gleamed. He could be working quietly for hours but then suddenly he would talk and talk and talk in his soft voice and couldn’t be stopped. So Florian would sit and listen to him. However, they were rarely talking about their personal lives, about their girlfriends, families. It was kind of a professional friendship. They were very close, yet not able to talk about personal matters. None of them ever brought these topics up. Wolfgang was jabbering about his love adventures all the time, mainly to Karl, who wasn’t really listening but always nodded his head. Karl still did not feel like a proper member of the group, he was a hired drummer. He was going out to pubs with his Academy friends and was in the studio only when necessary. At the end of the day, it was only Florian and Ralf who stayed until late night.

Florian finished his work and sat in the armchair for a while, thinking. Ralf was loudly screwing some bolts near the wheels.

“Ralf?”

No reaction.

“I want you to be my best man.”

The screwing sound stopped abruptly.

Ralf closed his eyes and sighed very quietly. Florian got up, took his stuff and headed home.

“See you tomorrow.”

“Mm.” said Ralf and the door closed. His shirt collar, all buttoned up, started to feel tight. He hastily unbuttoned it and started to breath heavily on all four. He was overloaded with information and feelings he could not cope with. _Come on, get yourself together. It’s just… it’s just… I… when?_

 

* * *

 

 

“What does a young handsome man do in a place like this?” she asked and sat on a bar stool next to him. Her auburn hair looked like a glistening waterfall and her lips were oh so sinfully red. Wolfgang finished his martini and ordered another for himself and this mysterious beauty.

“Be not afraid, madame.” He said, nonchalantly, “I am not a little boy anymore.”

“No, you are not.” She said slowly, checking him from head to toe. “I would say that you are a fine gentleman. Tall, manly and very handsome.”

“Please do save something for later, the night is still young.” Wolfgang leaned to the lady and she looked at his lips.

“The night is young, indeed” she whispered and Wolfgang could feel her breath on his lips. Suddenly, the barman started to ring a bell very loudly in front of them.

“Stop!” Wolfgang barked at him. But the barman did not listen and was ringing even louder.

“I said enough!” cried Wolfgang and the lady disappeared. The bar disappeared…everything…bedroom. Dark bedroom. _Phone. Phone is ringing. Oh my god what time it is? Half past two?! Who does…_

“Ja…?”

“Wolfgang?”

“Mein Gott, Ralf! I’m not coming to the studio now!”

“Wolfgang are you asleep?”

“Not anymore.”

“Wolfgang…. I need to ask you something.”

“Jesus! You couldn’t wait till morning, could you?”

“No.”

“So what is it? Hm?”

“Is Florian getting married?”

A moment of silence.

“WAS?!”

“Is Florian getting married?”

“You called me in the middle of the night to ask me if Florian is getting married?”

“Ja.”

“Is this a… life threatening situation, Ralf?” Wolfgang was furious. Ralf sounded very composed and calm – as always.

Ralf did not answer.

“Wolfgang, is Florian getting married?”

“…How did you even think of it?” Wolfgang got up and took the phone with him to the kitchen. He drank a glass of water and sat on the dining table.

“He asked me if I want to be his best man.”

Wolfgang facepalmed himself.

“Then, OBVIOUSLY, Ralf, he is getting married if he asked you to be his best man, isn’t he?”

“Ah.”

“Mein Gott… and did you accept?”

“No.”  
“Wait… what? You refused?” Wolfgang was surprised.

“No, I did not. I did not say anything.”

“But why di-?”

“I have to go now, Wolfgang. Bye.” Ralf hung up.

Wolfgang just sat there, confused and dizzy from being woken up so quickly.

_So Florian is getting married. Hm._

* * *

 

“…and I had the best dream ever when that dick called me! In the middle of the night! Could you believe it?” ranted Wolfgang.

“Hm.” Said Karl, mouth full of Berliner.

“He called me at half past two to ask me if Florian was getting married.”

Florian came out of the tiny kitchen with freshly brewed pot of coffee. Karl smiled at him, cheeks full like a hamster.

“Foria, ae u ge’in ma’ied?”

“What? Damn it, Karl, swallow, then speak.” Florian poured coffee for all of them. He left Ralf’s cup empty as he was not there yet. Karl swallowed with some difficulties as the Berliner was a day old and very dry.

“Ugh… I asked if you’re getting married.”

Florian frowned a bit.

“Who told you?”

“Ralf called me in the middle of the night.” Said Wolfgang, “He said you want him to be his best man.”

“Yes, I did ask him.” Florian sipped from the cup. “But I did it in a great advance. Maybe I shouldn’t have… we only got engaged. The wedding should be in January. But you know Ralf, he needs to know things in advance…”

“Congratulations!” Karl patted Florian on the shoulder.

“Karl you’ve got sticky fingers!”

“Yeah I know.” Laughed Karl and kept smearing sugar over Florian’s jacket. Wolfgang burst into laughter and soon Florian was laughing as well. The door suddenly opened.

“Ah, the bridesmaid!” said Wolfgang, “Did you have a good night’s sleep yesterday, mein liebling?”

“Shut up.” Retorted Ralf sharply. “Why aren’t you working? It’s almost noon.” He barked.

“I’ve only just got up…” Florian finished his coffee and looked at Ralf, whose look could kill. His nostrils widened, he was seeing red.

“That’s because you are so fucking lazy, Florian.” He shouted, slammed the door and went to the rehearsal room.

Karl just sat there, with his mouth wide open and Wolfgang gulped and looked at Florian, who was frowning.

“Something is going on.” He said, got up and left the kitchenette.

The rehearsal session that day was the quietest one they’ve ever had. None of them said a word.

* * *

 

The autumn was pleasantly warm and Ralf spent most of his free time on his bicycle. He would make bike trips to Netherlands and Belgium and sometimes ride up to one hundred kilometres a day. It was a great exercise for clearing up his mind. But then the winter came and with winter came snow and icy roads, so he hung up his bicycles on hooks in his flat. He got mail - a very nice envelope. He pulled out an eggshell white wedding announcement and looked at it for a while, examining it from all angles and sides before putting it carefully on a desk. It was hand-written by Florian.

Ralf no longer felt any anger and if, he was only angry at himself. He was trying to grow a kind of dullness within himself, a kind of resistance, an empty space.

He touched the texture of the hand-made paper. It was inevitable. Of course. And it was normal, wasn’t it? Natural. The bride will wear white dress and Florian will have a black frock. _And I’ll stand there and hold the rings and wait until it’s over._

The phone rang. Ralf picked it up without a word.

“Ralf, they are lightening up the Christmas tree today! And I passed by the market yesterday and we must go there for a cup of glühwein.” Florian sounded enthusiastically. Especially about the wine.

“What about your fiancée? Is she coming?”

“No, she doesn’t like glühwein.”

“You are marrying someone who doesn’t like glühwein?”

Florian laughed. “Come on Ralf. We go there every year.”

“True. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” Ralf hung up and took one of his bicycles off the hook. It was freezing outside and the wind bit his cheeks until they were red. He parked the bike and found Florian already with two cups of mulled wine in his hands, looking at the Christmas tree.

“I wonder why we’ve never been invited to play at the Christmas markets.” Said Florian.

“Don’t be stupid, the equipment would not make it.” Smiled Ralf.

“We could play on icicles, you know?”

Ralf started to laugh heartily. Florian must have drunk at least two cups already. He had glassy eyes and the tip of his nose was pink – but that could have been the cold air all around. They wandered around the markets, drinking one cup after another. Florian bought roasted chestnuts, while Ralf was stuffing himself with sweet marzipan stollen. After an hour of continuous eating and drinking, they were quite chilly. Ralf did not feel his ears and tipsily asked Florian if he still had them. The studio was near so they took Ralf’s bike and headed there for a late night electronic jam and a cup of hot black coffee.

Ralf flung the door open – there was nobody there, yet the studio was pleasantly warm.

“Well of course! Slackers!” he took of his gloves and coat, meaning Karl and Wolfgang. Florian climbed the steps with difficulties, as he had too much to drink. Ralf was already brewing coffee – that would get him back on feet. Florian sat on a radiator as his long legs in grey slacks were almost frozen.

“Where’s your flute?” asked Ralf.

“What? You want me to play the flute?”  
“Yes,” said Ralf and grabbed the bass guitar standing lonely in the corner.

“Seriously?” Florian pointed at the bass, amusedly. “You don’t even know how to hold that anymore!”

“How dare you…. You…. Whistler!” shouted Ralf while tuning his guitar.

“Whistler? _Whistler_?! You take that back!”

“Never!” laughed Ralf and started to play. Florian joined after few bars. They were jamming for twenty minutes and then it became more of a competition than a collaboration. Ralf tried to make Florian laugh, singing rude and obscene improvised songs and making faces so Florian would blow the flute badly. Florian sneaked nearer to Ralf and tried to push him, first with his leg and then hips, to destabilize him. Then he shoved Ralf more than he wanted to and he almost fell on the floor. Ralf got angry because of what could have happened to the bass guitar, took it off, tore the flute out of Florian’s hands and grabbed him angrily by his collar. He’s never been that close to him. His bright eyes scared him and his grip loosened a little. Florian grinned a bit at Ralf’s quick angry reaction.

“I didn’t want to.” He whispered. Ralf released Florian’s collar but at Florian’s surprise, he came closer and hugged him very carefully. Maybe he drank too much and he is sick or something, thought Florian.

“Ralf, are you ok?” No response, but the hug tightened. Florian’s heart was beating like mad, he had no idea what is going on. Ralf’s ears were still pink and cold, his hair soft and fine, tickling Florian on his chin.

“What’s wrong?”

“Don’t get married.” Ralf mumbled.

“What…? Why?” and then he realised and laughed with relief. “But Ralf, I’m not moving anywhere, I’ll still work in Kling Klang! Every day! I’m still going to play with you, it’s my job!” he patted Ralf on the back and tried to get himself out of the hug.

“That’s not it.” Said Ralf quietly.

“Then what is it?” asked Florian, confused, and looked at Ralf’s bowed head. He was pale and though drunk, he looked very nervous. And before Florian could even react, he got a hasty, soft, warm kiss on lips.  Ralf was still very near him, with closed eyes, looking very guilty, like if he just made the biggest mistake in his life. Florian forgot to breathe for a moment.

“D-don’t be sad.” Stuttered Florian who still could not really compute with what has been happening. But he knew for sure that he is not angry at Ralf. Well he never kissed a man in his life before but it was not unpleasant. It was the same as kissing girls, really. So why not to try it again? He stroked Ralf’s ridiculously sharp jaw and kissed him very carefully, almost as if he was worried he would damage him. Ralf did not move away. Florian’s nose was buried in his cheek.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving.” Said Florian quietly, when he realize Ralf is sobbing into his jacket. He embraced him tighter and lifted him a bit above the ground playfully. Ralf opened his eyes wide, surprised, and stopped crying.  
“I would not leave you here alone with Karl and Wolfgang. God knows what could happen.”

Ralf started to laugh. “Put me down, I must have gained at least five pounds from all the stolen I ate today.”

“True! And the amount of sweets you are able to consume, Ralf! That never fails to amaze me.” He put him down and hugged him.

 

 

 


End file.
